Quadruple Life

I was out there with my quadruple lives;
trying to keep it straight.
Someone says who is that guy
and even I turn to look at one
of my selves’
unrecognizable blue eyes—
the shade of sky in front
of a bank of gray.

In these candle-scorched days
only the rich get their one life,
with the romance of a second
being a mysterious adventure.

My second fell in love
with someone's third
but none of our others could
agree to the union—

churches of objectors
raising their fists
while Jesus perched and sighed;
his first, third and fourth lives
completely unknown.

Only the famous Jesus
still hangs on,
catching no moss
in the steepled hands
of alternative lives

pressed together
in single dwelling houses.